


Between the Lines

by emberloey



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Gang, Happy Ending, Implied Smut, M/M, Undefined Relationship, complicated relationship, kind of misocommunication, super angsty for a bit at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 08:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19764175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emberloey/pseuds/emberloey
Summary: They'd know they're in love if they'd just read between the fucking lines.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> stream city lights bitches our sex KING has blessed us give him what he deserves fucking HELL the sex ANTHEMS if i don't lose my virginity with that album playing in the background then what is the fucking POINT
> 
> also this is kind of random and open and a lot of things were intentionally unanswered so if you have questions after reading this then GOOD i've done my job right great but if you wanna ask them below i'll answer!!

“I got paid early,” Chanyeol says as he kicks the door shut behind him, something between a smirk and a genuine smile on his face. Baekhyun doesn’t think he’s seen a genuine smile on his face...ever.

“How much?” Baekhyun doesn’t ask why, or what he got paid for. It’s better he not know—point is Chanyeol got paid. Early. He puts the book he’d been reading aside and sits up. Chanyeol meets him and cups the back of his neck, kissing him deeply.

Baekhyun’s mind goes blank as his body goes on autopilot—simultaneously sighing and arching up into Chanyeol as one hand reaches back and pulls the thick envelope out of his back pocket. Chanyeol stands up and sheds his jacket as Baekhyun opens the envelope and begins fingering through the bills.

“Enough to go out tonight.” 

Baekhyun pauses, closing the envelope and looking up at Chanyeol who’s hanging his leather jacket up in the coat closet behind the door. “Out?”

“To the club.” Ah. Chanyeol never goes out simply because he _wants_ to. “Boss needs me to check on one of the clubs downtown. Come with me? We can get dinner on the way.”

Baekhyun’s distracted momentarily as Chanyeol strips his shirt over his head, eyes scanning the miles and miles of black ink swirled over his whole front. Chanyeol tosses his shirt on the counter and opens the fridge for a drink, and Baekhyun’s eyes follow the lines down Chanyeol’s back.

“Are we just going to the club?” Baekhyun goes for nonchalant. Chanyeol knows him better than anyone, though, and he straightens up. As he turns he cracks the soda can open.

“Do you have something else to do? Any errands you need to run?”

“Nothing particular.” Baekhyun shakes his head and opens the envelope back up, leaning against the armrest of the couch as he takes the bills out and begins thumbing through them, counting under his breath. “Which boss is this, again?”

“Panther.” Chanyeol rounds the couch and lifts Baekhyun’s legs to sit down, situating them in his lap with a hand across his thighs when he’s comfortable.

“He’s new, isn’t he?”

Chanyeol shrugs as he swallows, setting the can aside on the table. “Think so. He pays well, though,” he nods at the thick stack of cash neatly stacked in Baekhyun’s hand, “isn’t that all that matters?”

“Don’t you think it’s strange that the bosses are changing so much?” Baekhyun muses after a moment of silence, tapping the bill stack against his left palm. “There’s a new one every week.”

“That’s not _uncommon_ in what I do, Baek.” Chanyeol fixes Baekhyun with a look. “You okay?”

“Must just be cabin fever.” Baekhyun swings his legs off Chanyeol and sets the cash on the coffee table on top of its original envelope. “I’ve been inside too long. Very little human interaction. Too much time to think about what doesn’t matter.”

Chanyeol snags his wrist before he can head to the bedroom and tugs Baekhyun back until he’s forced to sit in his lap. “And what has your pretty little mind determined doesn’t matter?”

“Who pays you doesn’t matter so long as you get paid,” Baekhyun says smoothly, eyes tracing the four bullet holes in the wall by the door. _That_ had been a long night. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Come to the club with me tonight.” Chanyeol wraps his arms around Baekhyun’s waist and squeezes, chin hooked over his shoulder. “Let’s get you out of the house—you’re an overthinker. It’s cute but, ultimately, driving you insane.”

“Yeah.” Baekhyun smiles softly and turns his head to meet Chanyeol’s eyes. “What club is this one?”

“Leopard’s.”

 _“What_ is your group’s thing with animals? Are you secretly a furry? Do we need to talk about that?” Baekhyun’s head falls back and he sighs, exasperated.

His mind works double time, though.

No real names by the leaders—that’s unusual. Chanyeol used to know the name of every higher-up calling the shots, but now he knows none of them. No one but whoever works directly above him.

“No, I’m not.” Chanyeol’s hand is cold on his cheek, metal rings tapping his cheekbone as his head is righted on his neck and he’s looking at Chanyeol again. “Our bedroom activities are safe, promise.”

Baekhyun smiles softly and kisses Chanyeol, whose arm on his waist tightens. Baekhyun’s hand falls to his abdomen, tracing lightly over each of his prominent abs and it’s all too easy, all too _natural_ , for Chanyeol to maneuver them until Baekhyun’s beneath him on the couch, legs parted for Chanyeol to situate between them.

Chanyeol’s lips drag down his neck to nip at the collarbones he loves so much—Baekhyun lost his shirt. He’s not sure when, but of course, it doesn’t necessarily matter. It would’ve come off at some point and sooner is better than later.

“Aren’t we going out tonight?” Baekhyun props up on his elbows, naked and breathless, as Chanyeol stands to strip out of his own pants and then shuffle around the drawer of the side table. He returns to the couch with lube in his hand.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. Sex hair is _all_ the rage—your’s’ll just be _legitimate.”_

“I haven’t been here for _that_ long.” Baekhyun glares at the man between his legs, hands pulling them apart.

“Of course not.” Chanyeol kisses the inside of his thigh and Baekhyun melts, dissolving into the cheap couch cushions that have relatively no stuffing left.

* * *

“Chanyeol?” Baekhyun sits up, wide awake in an instant—he has to be functional at the drop of a hat what with his job, and all. He doesn’t have to glance at the clock on his nightstand to know that it’s early—the sun hasn’t risen yet. It’s pitch black outside. “Where the hell are you going?”

“Out.” Baekhyun watches Chanyeol pull a shirt on, covering both the black ink _and_ the red lines—left by Baekhyun himself—and settling it around his hips. “Got a call.”

“How long will you be out?”

Chanyeol sighs, pulling his jacket on and turning to face the bed. “Don’t wait up for breakfast.” He kisses Baekhyun softly, grabs his gun off the nightstand, and is out the door.

Baekhyun lays down after he hears the front door’s lock click, securing him safely inside, but suddenly the walls close in and he can’t breathe and he stumbles out of the bed, throwing the window up and climbing out onto the fire escape.

It’s a rickety old thing, creaking under Baekhyun’s weight even with how small he is, but he makes himself comfortable anyway. If it falls, it falls.

Baekhyun won’t fight death.

He’d never fight death— _cheat_ it, on the other hand, that’s something he’s done time and time again. Earned himself something of a reputation, bad enough that he’s had to ask _Chanyeol_ , of all people, for a place to hide out until things blow over.

Something blossomed between them in the months he’s been here—something neither of them are willing to talk about.

Certain things are better left unsaid. _Unofficial._

He’s out on the fire escape until Chanyeol gets home, watching the world wake up. He listens to the cars drive by on the main road in the distance but their window overlooks a small alley, and below them children are playing a game.

Something with a ball—calling out names and kicking the ball around among themselves arranged in a messy circle. They laugh, call out and trash talk each other in an attempt to best their opponents and there’s a ghost of a smile on Baekhyun’s face as he listens to them.

Chanyeol gets home when the sky is blue and the sun is high and he joins Baekhyun on the fire escape, jaw clenched to hold a cigarette between his teeth as he slips through the window. The escape creaks more so with Chanyeol’s additional weight—a good bit more than Baekhyun’s, entirely muscle—but it holds steady.

Baekhyun curses the builder—why can’t the damn thing just _fall_ already?

“What we now have before us,” Chanyeol starts, smoke escaping his mouth with each shape his lips make as he speaks, “is one hell of an opportunity.”

Baekhyun simply hums. The boy who’s been losing over and over again has finally bested one of the others, and he celebrates loudly among being cursed out by his friends. One of the other boys tackles him with a hug, laughing loudly all the while.

“I’ve been offered another position.” Chanyeol glances at Baekhyun. “It comes with _information._ Access to...everything.”

One of Baekhyun’s eyebrows quirks.

“There’s a raid they want me to look in to.” Chanyeol continues, facing forward again. “Some sort of diamond—I’m supposed to lead a team to swipe it and bring it back.”

“Why am I supposed to care?”

“Because that diamond is worth _50 million dollars,”_ Chanyeol whispers the words in Baekhyun’s ear and Baekhyun shudders, almost moaning at the sound.

Imagine what he could do with 50 _million_ dollars.

“That’s one hell of a bus ticket.”

“I stayed behind,” Chanyeol flicks ash off the tip of his cigarette, “did some math.”

“You’re horrible at math.”

“I rounded.” Chanyeol shrugs. He speaks around the cigarette in his mouth. “That’s a _plane ticket._ That’s papers and fake passports and new identities without even making a _dent.”_ The next time he looks over Baekhyun is staring right at him, eyes seeming to look _through_ him and rip into his very soul.

It’s the look that made him fall for Baekhyun in the first place.

“You’re going after it with a team?”

“Unless someone else gets to it first.” Chanyeol shrugs, looking forward again. Now he’s got Baekhyun’s attention. “How rusty are you, Lux?”

Baekhyun’s jaw automatically clenches at his codename and his chin tilts up, radiating confidence—borderline cockiness.

Lux has _never_ backed down from a challenge.

“I guess we’re about to find out.”

* * *

“Who’s this?” Chanyeol asks as the door falls shut behind him, not used to anyone but Baekhyun when he gets in for the day. He thought they’d talked about not inviting people over and sharing Chanyeol’s address—they’d have to talk about it again.

“A friend.” Baekhyun doesn’t glance up from the map over the coffee table in front of him, multiple colored highlighters scattered over it. The pink one is in his hand and a notebook sits in the corner that he keeps referring to before tracking down locations and circling them.

The “friend” glances at Chanyeol over the top of his laptop screen, lying prone on the couch. His eyes narrow, taking in Chanyeol’s appearance. His eyes pause on how tight his t-shirt is fitted over his chest, and then again on the gun in the holster at his hip.

“You’re hot.” A pause. “You need a new couch.”

“Shut up, Jongdae.” Baekhyun still doesn’t look away. He’s using the orange highlighter now and a ruler, drawing lines. Jongdae closes his laptop and sits up.

“Do you have any food? I’m starving.”

“Jongdae I _said_ —”

Jongdae ignores Baekhyun and pushes around Chanyeol to the kitchen. The two share an exasperated look.

“Make yourself at home,” Chanyeol mutters under his breath. He hears Jongdae open and shut a few cabinets and then a whiny “why don’t you have any food? You need food.”

Chanyeol goes through his routine—hangs his jacket up, puts his shoes in the closet, and then sits down on the couch, legs on either side of Baekhyun’s back which is pressed against the couch as he sits on the floor, still mapping.

“What’s all this?”

“You took my spot!” Jongdae throws himself on the couch beside Chanyeol, cracking open a soda. 

“This…” Chanyeol blinks twice. “This is my couch.”

“Maybe, but it’s a shitty couch so that’s invalid, and I’m your guest, meaning that’s _my_ spot.”

“Jongdae.” Baekhyun’s attention doesn’t stray from his task as he writes short phrases on a yellow sticky note. “Shut. Up.”

“Some friend.” Chanyeol’s hands rest on Baekhyun’s shoulders and his thumbs dig underneath them. “You’re tight. What’s all this?”

“A spider web.” Baekhyun peels the sticky note and sticks it by one of the circles. Chanyeol looks closer at the map.

A floorplan.

It looks a lot like the one Chanyeol received from his boss earlier—of the mansion where the diamond’s going to be kept until it’s moved.

Before he can look too closely Baekhyun folds the map in half, and then in half again so it’s a quarter of the size it once was. He sets Jongdae’s laptop neatly on top of it and then stacks the pen, highlighters, ruler and sticky notes on top of _that._

Jongdae gets up and heads to the kitchen as the microwave timer beeps.

“Don’t ask.”

“Don’t worry.”

Baekhyun ends up in Chanyeol’s lap to distract him, lips on his neck and hands starting to feel for the button of his jeans when Jongdae walks back in.

“So that’s why your couch sucks so much.”

* * *

Chanyeol doesn’t like Jongdae—this he discovers very quickly. He’s annoying, and whiny, but Baekhyun insists he does good work and so he sticks around.

He’s staked a claim on “his” spot on the couch—head on the armrest facing the door, feet on the couch and laptop propped against his upraised thighs. Chanyeol knows he wants him to challenge him for it, what with the way he glares at Chanyeol whenever he gets home from work with a smug lift to the corners of his lips and a victorious look in his eyes.

Chanyeol knows how to pick and choose his battles—this isn’t one he wants to waste energy on. He has enough to worry about with the diamond and all. Whiny preschoolers trapped in 24-year-old bodies aren’t allocated space in his brain right now.

“The dates have changed,” Chanyeol calls from the kitchen as he looks through his cabinets for something to eat. He hears Jongdae’s fingers stop typing and the whole apartment goes very still. “They’re moving it on the 23rd now, not the 25th. Just so you know.”

Jongdae doesn’t move. Chanyeol lets the cabinet fall shut just for something to break the silence—it’s too tense in here. He may need to go for a smoke if something doesn’t happen—

“Thank you.” Baekhyun’s voice is soft and Chanyeol knows that Baekhyun’s back is still to the kitchen but it’s something. The atmosphere softens, and Chanyeol rips open another cabinet.

“Jongdae needs to stop coming around, all our ramen is gone.”

Baekhyun snorts, and Chanyeol smiles. Tension broken.

 _“Excuse_ me, but that’s all you had to eat. I need fuel to work.” Jongdae’s voice echoes through the small apartment. “Besides, I’m your guest. You _have_ to feed me.”

“As often as you’ve been here, you’d think this _guest_ would be polite enough to bring food by. Housewarming?” Chanyeol pops open a soda, otherwise empty-handed, and plops down on the side of the couch opposite where Jongdae’s head is.

He slams the computer shut and glares at Chanyeol. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, dude. That’s my _kitchen,_ I need food in there.”

“Then go _grocery shopping_ you—”

“Children, please.” Baekhyun clicks his pen and sets it aside with a sigh. He turns around, back against the coffee table and knees folded, shins pressed against the couch. It’s a tight fit, but somehow he fits and makes it look _comfortable_. “Let’s spring for pizza? It’s been a long day. I’m starving and I don’t want to wonder who’s going to toss who out the window first at the moment.”

Jongdae and Chanyeol exchange a glare. Jongdae sticks his tongue out, and then Baekhyun grabs the ruler off the coffee table and whacks his hand. “Be nice. You’re helping pay.”

“Fine.”

Chanyeol sees how much cash is stashed in Jongdae’s wallet—as much as he complained about pitching in, he really didn’t have a reason to—and he starts to like Jongdae a bit more.

Then they argue about what toppings to get, Baekhyun slams his head into the coffee table, and Chanyeol picks what he and Baekhyun usually get which elicits another round of whining from the, apparently, very picky Jongdae.

Like is too strong a word, he decides.

Chanyeol begins to _tolerate_ Jongdae.

* * *

“How’s planning coming?”

Baekhyun freezes momentarily and then stands up on his toes to tuck the bowls in the proper cabinet.

“Don’t ask me that. We talked about this.”

“I’m only asking because I don’t want you overworking yourself.” Chanyeol grabs a few glasses and helps Baekhyun in cleaning the kitchen by putting away everything that goes on the high shelves. “It’s been a while since you’ve done a heist. Don’t drive yourself sick.”

Baekhyun doesn’t speak for a few minutes, and when he finally does his voice is _scarily_ even and his eyes are startlingly confident as he holds Chanyeol’s gaze.

“I’ve had nothing to do for months but play out scenario after scenario for heists. I have plans written down and hidden in places you wouldn’t even know to look. Don’t underestimate me.”

“This isn’t underestimation.” Chanyeol shakes out of the daze Baekhyun always seems to put him in. “This is me _actually_ caring for your well-being, is it really so hard to believe that someone actually _cares_ for you?”

“In our line of work, yes.” Baekhyun takes the stack of plates from Chanyeol’s hands and they both relax a bit. “No one cares for anyone else without another motive.”

“Which is why you fucked me for a place to stay, hm?”

Chanyeol knows he’s caught Baekhyun—caught _the_ Baekhyun, caught _Lux_ —in a lie because of the way Baekhyun freezes, back to him and tensing.

“Exactly.” The tension lasts half a second, maybe less, and then Baekhyun closes the cabinet and turns around. “Wanna order in tonight? We’re still out of food.”

“Can I eat you instead?” Chanyeol’s voice drops and he steps forward, trapping Baekhyun between him and the cabinet. Baekhyun smiles and rests one hand on his chest, dragging his pointer finger all the way up Chanyeol’s throat to rest on his lips.

“Oh? Hungry?”

“Starving.” Chanyeol licks Baekhyun’s finger and eyes him as he takes the whole digit into his mouth, tongue swirling and sucking. Baekhyun’s head falls back and he lets out a soft moan, and Chanyeol takes his moment of distraction to turn him around and press him against the counter, mouth dropping to his neck. “What do you say?”

“We’ll definitely need to order something if you’re going to make me cum.” Baekhyun bends forward, elbows resting on the counter as Chanyeol tugs his jeans down. Chanyeol gives him the best, most exhausting orgasms. He’ll need to replenish.

“Who said anything about making you cum?” Chanyeol asks with a chuckle before pulling his cheeks apart with his hands and diving right in.

* * *

Chanyeol’s tolerance for Jongdae goes way, way down when he gets home and sees Baekhyun on the couch with Jongdae, lying between his legs with his back to his chest and his laptop over his thighs. Jongdae has one hand lazily under Baekhyun’s shirt as they both look at the screen, and it looks suspiciously close to Baekhyun’s nipple.

“Do you mind?”

“You can join.” Jongdae teases, and Chanyeol swallows as he sees his hand slip up to scratch Baekhyun’s nipple. Baekhyun rolls his eyes but shudders still, reaction automatic.

“Knock it off. Chanyeol, go take a shower or something.”

“Why, so you can fuck on my couch?” Chanyeol slams the closet door shut harder than he planned to, and Jongdae raises an eyebrow.

He keeps _winning._

“No, Chanyeol, _gross.”_ Baekhyun meets Chanyeol’s eyes with a semi-disgusted look on his face. “We’re finishing up something _important_ , we’ll talk later, okay?”

“Baek—”

 _“Please_ , Chanyeol. Give us ten.” Baekhyun closes the computer and gives Chanyeol a stern look. Jongdae’s hand drops from his chest to rest calmingly on his waist, fingers tapping rhythmically.

“Ten _only._ ” Chanyeol storms down the hall and straight into the bathroom.

When he’s out Baekhyun’s lying on the bed—is it Chanyeol’s? Baekhyun’s? _Theirs?_ What a headache—lost somewhere in thought. No whining is coming from the living room so Chanyeol assumes that Jongdae’s left.

“You seem upset.” Baekhyun’s eyes follow him across the room as Chanyeol walks to the small dresser and pulls out briefs and a pair of sweats.

“Work stuff, I’m fine.”

“Hm.” Baekhyun sits up, not convinced. “Is it Jongdae?”

“Who the hell is that guy, anyway? He’s annoying, and rude, and I came home today with his hand up your shirt, practically _groping_ you on my couch. Sorry if my mood isn’t rainbow enough for you.” The waistband of his underwear snaps as he pulls them up to sit properly and Baekhyun raises an eyebrow.

“Jongdae and I are...old friends. We’ve been working together for years—used to live together. We’ve helped each other through some hard shit…” Baekhyun catches Chanyeol’s eye and rolls his own. “Yes, we’ve slept together. Multiple times. He gives really good head.”

“I didn’t…” Chanyeol sighs and shakes his head. “Not what I wanted to know.”

“No? Are you jealous? You’re acting jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” Chanyeol pulls his sweatpants up and rips open the drawer that has his shirts. His bicep bulges as he does.

Baekhyun smiles. “Does he _bother_ you, Chanyeol?”

“Why would he?” Chanyeol slams the drawer shut and turns around—Baekhyun’s _enjoying_ this. Chanyeol’s anger. Chanyeol himself doesn’t even know where it’s coming from. “It’s not like we’re exclusive or anything. Fuck whoever you want, it’s none of my business.”

“You’re right.” Baekhyun cocks his head, sizing Chanyeol up. “Would it bother you if I said I blew him on the couch? Since we’re not exclusive, and all. He has needs too, and unlike us, he has no one to tend to him. I was just helping an old friend.”

“No big deal.” Chanyeol flops on the bed, not looking at Baekhyun. He _can’t_ look at Baekhyun or he’s gonna be even more pissed.

Baekhyun scoffs. “Why won’t you just admit you’re upset? Jealous?” He holds his gaze. “That you have the same feelings I—”

“I don’t!” Chanyeol snaps, glaring at him. Baekhyun’s face is hard, his eyes unreadable. Chanyeol snorts and looks back at the ceiling, slipping under the covers. “I’m not jealous, and I don’t have feelings. I don’t _get_ them. Look, it’s been a long day. I’m gonna go to bed. Do you mind?”

Baekhyun’s jaw clenches. “Whatever.” He’s at least kind enough to hit the lights and shut the door on his way out, even if he slams it.

Chanyeol can’t sleep, though—the raid, he somehow manages to convince himself. He’s just stressed—and he pretends he doesn’t see Baekhyun smoking out on the fire escape when he leaves to go for a run around three am.

* * *

“Heading out tonight?” When Chanyeol gets out of the shower after work the next day Baekhyun’s dressed— _dressed_ dressed, in black jeans and a blue satin shirt. He turns and Chanyeol sees a black choker tied around his neck and eyeliner on.

“I’m meeting Jongdae and some friends,” Baekhyun says with a shrug. The heels of his boots thump softly as he pads across the room and picks up the leather jacket on the edge of the bed and slings it on. “I’ll be late.”

Chanyeol hums. It’s the 23rd. He knows where Baekhyun’s going. “Have fun.”

“I will.”

Chanyeol heads over to his dresser and pulls out his own pair of dark jeans and a black dress shirt. His own gang jacket he’ll be finishing the ensemble with is in the front closet.

Baekhyun catches sight of the outfit through the mirror as he fixes his hair. “What about you?”

Chanyeol pauses for just a second—Baekhyun will know, too. They both are going to _know_.

“A work thing.” He drops the towel and pulls on his briefs and then his pants. “I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

Baekhyun pauses for a second and then averts his eyes, nodding. His phone buzzes on the nightstand and he walks over to it, scrolling through his notifications. It feels like they’re moving through jello, what with how tense the room just got.

“I’ve got to go.” Baekhyun pockets his phone and adjusts his jacket on his shoulders. “My friend is here.”

“Hey.” Chanyeol grabs Baekhyun before he leaves the room. “Just…” His voice falters. Baekhyun looks lost. He doesn’t look confident, he doesn’t look cocky, he doesn’t look like _Lux._

He looks like Baekhyun. The Baekhyun who has breakdowns on Chanyeol’s fire escape, the Baekhyun who sneaks into the shower with him, who intentionally leaves hickeys on Chanyeol’s neck because he knows Chanyeol hates them being there and who orders from Chanyeol’s favorite takeout place when he has to work late so he has dinner waiting for him.

He looks like the Baekhyun who showed up at his door a few months ago, soaking and bleeding and _crying_ as he stumbled over his words and begged Chanyeol to let him hide here, just for a few days, and then he’ll take off and find somewhere else. He just needs to stitch himself up and eat something and he’ll be on his way.

He looks like the Baekhyun that Chanyeol threw behind him into the kitchen, hiding him before shooting the three guys who broke into his apartment, somehow knowing this was where Baekhyun had decided to go off into hiding. He may have hated Baekhyun at the time, but he didn’t deserve to die like that—injured and weaponless, with no chance.

This is the look that compelled Chanyeol to extend his invitation, telling Baekhyun to stay as long as he wanted.

Baekhyun never left. It occurs to Chanyeol now that Baekhyun never _wanted_ to.

“Be safe.” He says finally. That’s it. That’s all he wants to say.

That’s all he _can_ say without making everything infinitely more complicated.

Baekhyun hesitates, almost waiting for Chanyeol to say something else, but the something else never comes. He nods, shakes Chanyeol’s arm off, and heads to the door.

“I lied.” Baekhyun pauses before he leaves the room, one hand on the doorframe. “I never blew Jongdae on the couch. I haven’t laid a hand on him—or anyone, for that matter—with that sort of intent since we’ve been together— _sleeping_ together.” He meets Chanyeol’s eyes over his shoulder and offers him a soft smile and a shrug. “Just thought you should know. It’s just you for me.”

Chanyeol just stands there, listens to the click of Baekhyun’s shoes as he walks through the small living room. The door clicks shut, but still he doesn’t move. He doesn’t move until he gets a text from one of his friends in the gang that they’re _here_ , and if he doesn’t hurry and get ready they’ll be late.

They can’t afford to be late. Not tonight.

* * *

Baekhyun gets upstairs without a hitch. The diamond is on the seventh floor, but the security is minimal thanks to Jongdae and Minseok.

 _“Third door on your left.”_ Jongdae’s voice is crackly but still clear through the earpiece situated snugly in Baekhyun’s right ear—made to fit him and _only_ him. 

He’s something of a professional.

“Is it empty?”

Jongdae’s fingers click around for three seconds, the amount of time it takes Baekhyun to reach the door and he affirms that the room is empty right as Baekhyun touches the handle. He glances down the hallway and then slips inside. He’s the only one in there—it looks like some sort of storage room, there are all sorts of things up here. The safe is just one of many random objects in the room, making it blend in perfectly. 

Anyone who didn’t know what they were looking for would’ve missed it altogether.

It’s easy enough to crack the safe and he grabs the diamond, slipping it into a hidden pocket right over his heart, zipper hidden in a flap in the inner lining of his jacket. 

A jacket made especially for jobs such as this one.

He freezes as the door opens and shuts, listening. His heart siezes.

He recognizes those footsteps.

“Did you take it already?”

“You’re too late.” Baekhyun stands up and turns around, facing Chanyeol. Chanyeol’s hands are in his pockets, his weight resting on one leg. He looks like an asshole—that’s Baekhyun’s natural position, more often than not. Now he gets why people curse him out so much. “Just missed it.”

“So long as you’re still here, I have a chance.” Chanyeol raises his chin and Baekhyun doesn’t move his face one bit, though he’s officially panicking. Chanyeol looks ready to fight him.

_“Whose voice is that?”_

Chanyeol would beat him in a fight, hands down.

“You gonna take it from me?”

“If I have to. You could make things easy and just hand it over.” Chanyeol takes a few steps towards Baekhyun, cutting the distance between them in half.

_“Fuck, is that Chanyeol? Baek, Yixing’s not there yet.”_

“And when have I _ever_ made things easy for you, babe?” Baekhyun takes a step back, glancing at the window. He could run and try to make the jump, but the outline of Chanyeol’s gun on his hip gives him probable cause to think he’ll be shot down before he gets there. Besides, the water’s going to be so cold that if he has to wait for Yixing he’d risk hypothermia, and he’s always been sensitive to the cold.

_“Baekhyun, you’ve gotta hold him off. I’ll check in with Yixing, just don’t lose that diamond.”_

“Tonight would be a good time to start.” Chanyeol takes another step towards him and Baekhyun steps back, looking around the room. He has no gun with him, having given it to Minseok for him to cause a diversion earlier. He’s up against Chanyeol, who has a gun and is known for _never_ missing a shot, with absolutely no weapon.

“We both know I can’t do that.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Baekhyun faces forward and Chanyeol’s right in front of him, hooking his chin. He raises his head to meet his eyes. “You can, baby, but you won’t. And _that’s_ the problem.”

“I need this.” Baekhyun’s voice drops. _“Please_ , Chanyeol. You know I need to get out of here. Jongdae, Min—my friends.” Chanyeol doesn’t know the rest of their names. “We need to leave. We _need_ this.”

“What, you think I like being here?” Chanyeol’s hand tightens, his eyes become firm and cold, and Baekhyun grabs his wrist as his hand drops to his throat. “That I like being someone’s little dog, doing dirty work for some spare cash? I’m going _nowhere.”_

Chanyeol backs Baekhyun up until he slams against the wall, and it’s then that his hand tightens and suddenly Baekhyun _can’t breathe._

“Don’t—” He coughs, but no oxygen enters his body. _“Please.”_

“Please.” Chanyeol mocks. _“Everything_ I’ve done for you. You’re not taking this from me too. The diamond is _mine.”_

Baekhyun reaches blindly out beside him for something, _anything_ to get Chanyeol off of him. Chanyeol presses close, cracking as he sees the desperation in Baekhyun’s eyes. He kisses Baekhyun’s forehead as his vision starts going fuzzy.

“You know, I _did_ actually start _loving_ you.”

Baekhyun manages to grab some sort of picture frame and he uses the momentum of knocking it from the wall to swing it, and he manages to pitch it into Chanyeol’s head, coughing and collapsing against the wall as Chanyeol falls to the side. A few other picture frames fall, shaken loose by the large one Baekhyun had grabbed, and they all shatter to the ground with a loud smash.

His vision clears and when he looks up Chanyeol’s standing again, blood running down the side of his face.

Chanyeol sighs, but still he doesn’t reach for his gun. “Come on, baby, don’t be like this.” Baekhyun uses the wall to stand back up. “Baek, baby, just give me the diamond.”

“You loved me.” Chanyeol pauses in his movements, meeting Baekhyun’s eyes. For the first time that night _he_ looks unnerved. “You—you _love_ me.”

_“This is like a damn soap opera. God, this is amazing, I knew it.”_

“Of course I do, are you kidding?” Baekhyun picks up a large glass shard from the floor as Chanyeol steps towards him, holding it so tightly that it cuts his palm. “You’re—you’re everything. You’re gorgeous, and funny,” Chanyeol picks up what looks like a bat and tosses it between his hands, feeling its weight, “and a really good fuck. You bought me food with money you barely even had, to thank me for taking you in.”

Chanyeol meets his eyes. He’s not talking to Lux. He’s talking to Baekhyun. His voice shakes as he continues.

“You know me.” He swallows. “No one’s ever _known_ me before. And I found myself knowing you too.”

Chanyeol raises the bat to take a swing and Baekhyun dodges it, swinging the makeshift knife. Chanyeol drops the bat and grabs Baekhyun’s wrist, twisting it until he drops the knife.

Baekhyun grunts and turns in Chanyeol’s hold, foot kicking out and nearly taking out Chanyeol’s knee.

The attack catches Chanyeol off guard and he stumbles back. Baekhyun grabs a brick off the floor and throws it—Chanyeol dodges just in time, otherwise it would’ve slammed right into his head.

“Your favorite scent is warm vanilla.” Baekhyun pushes a chair between him and Chanyeol but Chanyeol vaults it, picking it up. He slams it into the wall and Baekhyun barely avoids it, dropping to the floor and kicking Chanyeol’s feet out from under him. “You bake when you’re anxious. You smoke when you have a lot of thinking to do.”

“You take up the entire bed when you sleep.” Baekhyun shoots back, picking up a book. He straddles Chanyeol’s waist and swings it at his head. “Hog all the covers.”

Chanyeol deflects the book and tosses it aside, hand finding Baekhyun’s throat again and he rolls them over so he’s on top, now, holding Baekhyun down.

“Oh, are we naming flaws now? Because you’ve got quite a few yourself, sweetheart.”

Baekhyun grabs another glass shard and Chanyeol cries out as it embeds in his bicep, slicing the skin. Baekhyun takes his moment of distraction to break out of his hold and uppercut his jaw, followed by a punch sideways hard enough to knock him aside.

Baekhyun gets up and starts running but Chanyeol grabs his ankle, pulling him right back down with an angry grunt.

“You _never_ fold the laundry.” Chanyeol uses his hold to pull Baekhyun back under him and grabs another glass shard—they’re _everywhere_. Baekhyun winces as one scratches near his neck as Chanyeol drags him across the floor, and then he gasps as Chanyeol goes to stab him in the stomach. He rolls to the side so it scratches him more than anything, albeit deeply, and this time when he grabs a book it meets Chanyeol’s head.

“Well _you_ never clean the kitchen, it’s only fair.” Baekhyun spits back, inching back on the floor with a hand on his stomach.

Fuck, that _hurt._

“You leave all the lights on! I’m the one paying the bills, baby, remember?” 

Baekhyun pauses for a second, catching his breath.

_“He’s almost there, Baek. Just a little bit longer. Don’t die, babe, please god don’t die.”_

Chanyeol’s taking a breather, too, panting in the corner. He raises a hand and looks at the blood on it from his head, then looks at his shoulder and puffs out a sort of chuckle.

“You eat Nutella out of the jar with a spoon,” Chanyeol speaks up again as they both stagger to their feet, and Chanyeol rolls his shoulders back. Baekhyun can barely stand up straight with his stomach the way it is, and he’s never felt so _small_.

“You keep blankets everywhere because you hate being cold.” Chanyeol limps as he walks towards him, head bleeding profusely. Baekhyun stumbles back, shaking his head.

“You trim your nails once a week because if they get too long you get annoyed and they get too dirty for your liking.”

Baekhyun’s hands form fists and Chanyeol does the same, dodging his first swing. He spins and elbows Baekhyun right in the saw with a semi-satisfying crunch, and when Baekhyun faces him again his lip is split and his nose is bleeding.

“You cry when the shower’s on and you don’t think I can hear you, but I do.” Chanyeol deflects another swing, Baekhyun’s balance off by the injury to his stomach, and grabs his arm, twisting it behind his back. “I always do.” He leans forward and nips at Baekhyun’s ear, applying pressure to his arm until Baekhyun whimpers and then he lets him go, shoving him so he stumbles into the wall.

“You can’t have more than three glasses of wine or you’re out for the night and you wouldn’t wake up for a hurricane.” Chanyeol stands up and checks how much his head is bleeding again. He’s trying not to cry, really, but he just loves Baekhyun so much. Ah, if only the circumstances were different. Baekhyun turns so his back is against the wall, blinking quickly.

The exhaustion seems to hit Chanyeol the second he meets Baekhyun’s eyes and suddenly his arms weigh a million pounds, and he nearly collapses.

“And your favorite movie is Iron Man.” Chanyeol pauses, panting, hands on his knees and tears in his eyes as he looks at Baekhyun. Baekhyun, too, has tears in his eyes and is collapsed back against the wall. His stomach is bleeding, just a bit, soaking the satin shirt and he has one hand covering the wound.

“I love you, Baekhyun.” Chanyeol finishes with a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “And now I have to kill you.” He straightens up and finally reaches for the gun at his hip.

_“Baekhyun, Yixing’s close. You’ve gotta go.”_

“You don’t have to.” Baekhyun panics, meeting Chanyeol’s eyes. He pushes off the wall and approaches him. Chanyeol’s already got the gun out and aimed right at him but Baekhyun doesn’t care—Chanyeol wouldn’t hurt him. 

_Chanyeol_ _wouldn’t hurt him._

“You don’t have to do this. Come with me.”

“What?”

 _“What? Baekhyun, don’t you dare_ —” Baekhyun reaches up and cuts his earpiece off.

“Come with me. Let’s both get out of here.” Baekhyun has a sudden burst of courage and he grabs the barrel of the gun, positioning it right at his forehead. “Or kill me now and get the diamond. It’s your choice.”

Chanyeol hesitates.

Baekhyun takes a breath. 

“I love you too.”

Chanyeol clenches his jaw and his grip on the gun tightens, and for a second Baekhyun thinks he doesn’t know Chanyeol after all. Chanyeol’s pointer finger shifts and _oh god, this is it, he’s really going to kill me_ —

The shot never comes. Footsteps sound from down the hall, at least five, Baekhyun figures in his head, and when Chanyeol looks at the door in a panic Baekhyun pushes away from him and runs to the window. In the distance he sees a boat coming and he opens the window.

By the time he turns around he’s standing on the ledge, nothing but the sea below him and he turns his earpiece back on— _"You have to go now, Baek, now jump now god fucking jump”_ —and this time Chanyeol’s the one standing there looking smaller than Baekhyun’s ever seen him.

“Hey, Park.” Chanyeol looks over, hand holding the gun laying limply at his side, and Baekhyun holds out a hand to him. “You ever been out of the country before?”

Chanyeol shakes his head.

“Me neither. Ever jumped seven stories into a freezing ocean before?”

Again, Chanyeol shakes his head. Baekhyun cracks a smile. “You’re a lot of firsts for me. First love. First time having sex where it actually _meant_ shit, you know? Wanna be my first plane ride, too?”

Chanyeol’s eyes brighten and he straightens up just slightly. The door trembles as someone pounds on it.

“Make the decision right now.” Baekhyun doesn’t look away from him, eyes back to normal. They look right _through_ Chanyeol, as though he already knew the answer to every question he asked before he even asked it. “I’m jumping in five, four, three, two—”

Baekhyun never reaches one, because Chanyeol leaps onto the ledge, kisses Baekhyun, takes his hand and they jump just as the door slams open.


	2. Epilogue

“No, no—I want this one.”

“Absolutely not.” Baekhyun shoots an apologetic smile at the poor part-time saleswoman who’s having to deal with Baekhyun and Chanyeol furniture shopping. “No offense,” he looks back at Chanyeol, “that one’s ugly as hell. It won’t match the living room.”

Chanyeol sighs dramatically and makes himself comfortable on the couch, shaking his head. “It’s comfortable. A true step up.”

“Anything will be better than what you used to have—really, the thing was a brick,” he shoots a smile at the unamused saleswoman, _“anything’s_ a step up—but now we can find something that not only feels better but _looks_ better, Chanyeol, get the fuck up. We’re not buying this damn couch.”

Chanyeol sighs dramatically and gets up, grumbling but still taking Baekhyun’s outstretched hand and thumbing over the back as they walk down the aisle.

“Stop pouting.”

“Buy that couch then.”

“No.”

“Sucks for you then.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes, used to Chanyeol’s antics by now, and squeezes his hand. Chanyeol lifts their hands to kiss the back of Baekhyun’s and they get lost in each other for just a second, shaken out when the saleswoman clears her throat.

“Sorry.” The smile apologetically.

“After hearing what you both have been saying, how about this one?” She points to an L-shaped couch, a gorgeous deep blue. Baekhyun discusses the design and the fabric while Chanyeol plops right down, getting comfortable to “test it.” “It’s water resistant, and because it’s so dark anything that stains will be fairly hidden. Besides, if you spill anything liquid it won’t really soak in, even wine and stuff like that. Easy to clean.”

Baekhyun hums and looks at Chanyeol, who cracks his eyes and nods.

“I like it.”

“Me too.” Baekhyun looks at the woman. “Can you grab the papers and things while we do some last minute discussion?”

“Sure.” She looks so relieved, two hours of taking the couple shopping and _finally_ there’s something they both like. She takes off and Chanyeol grabs Baekhyun’s hand, tugging him to lay beside him on the couch.

“What do you think?”

“I like it.” Baekhyun automatically lays next to Chanyeol, his head on Chanyeol’s arm. “It’s comfy. And big.”

Chanyeol’s voice drops and he nuzzles Baekhyun’s ear. “I can’t wait to break it in.”

 _“God.”_ Baekhyun sighs, exasperated as Chanyeol laughs. “Can’t we get _one_ piece of furniture that your main concern isn’t fucking on it—”

Chanyeol clears his throat and Baekhyun sighs again, turning to meet the saleswoman’s eyes with a forced smile. “Hi.”

She can’t meet his eyes. “I have the paperwork and all the formalities.”

“Great.” Baekhyun stands up and slaps Chanyeol’s hand away, hissing _“get up yourself”_ when he tries to get Baekhyun to help him. “Wonderful. And we can just check out up front, yes?”

“That poor woman.” Chanyeol snorts, throwing an arm over Baekhyun’s shoulders as they carry the final paperwork up to the checkout counter.

“We’ve scarred her. She deserves the rest of the day off.” Baekhyun skims over the paperwork as they walk. “I didn’t know they included free delivery _and_ installation, that’s great. Saves us a lot of trouble.”

“Mhm.” Chanyeol kisses Baekhyun’s head. “I like furniture shopping with you. It’s nice. Domestic as hell. Gross, but I feel adorable.”

“You’re literally sickening.” Baekhyun folds the paper nearly and wraps an arm around Chanyeol’s waist. “I guess I agree, though. And, thank god, we finally have a nice couch. That thing in Korea was a brick.”

“Hey, you leave my couch alone. We had a lot of good times on that thing.”

“Yes,” Baekhyun pats Chanyeol’s chest, “but all good things must come to an end.”

“Not us.” Chanyeol tugs Baekhyun aside and brushes his fringe out of his face, now blond what with the move. All his new papers, new passport, in all of it he had soft blond hair. Baekhyun planned on keeping it up for a good year or so, until they were settled and hopefully no one would come around asking questions. Chanyeol had simply gone with black himself, darkening the previous brown and then having their friend give him an undercut, too. It's hot. Baekhyun _loves_ it—so much so that he pinned him to the wall and dropped right to his knees the second he saw it and they were in private.

“We’re better than good, and we’re not coming to an end, right?”

Baekhyun smiles and wraps an arm around Chanyeol’s waist, tucking close, nose in the crook of his neck as he shakes his head. 

“You jumped out a seven-story window with me after I beat the hell out of you, ‘Yeol, we’re not going anywhere any time soon.”

“Good.” Chanyeol hooks his chin and kisses him softly for a minute, and then they continue the walk to the register. “Oh, and for the record, I totally won that fight.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

**Author's Note:**

> what's your fav song on city lights?
> 
> twitter/cc: emberloey


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